


Moving On

by coldphoenix



Series: Fall Of The King (One-shot trilogy) [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9793988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldphoenix/pseuds/coldphoenix
Summary: A short follow-up to Fall Of The King. Piccolo Junior visits King Piccolo's grave with his young son.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little follow-up to my recent post Fall Of The King. That fic kind of depressed everyone… It was supposed to be sad, but I still felt bad about how sad it was so I just thought of this cute little scene today. I hope it (kind of) makes it better…? Or it might spoil the significance and emotional impact of Fall Of The King, so… please consider all options before you decide whether or not to read this. If you do read it, I hope you like it. Thank you :)  
> N.B. Katas’s behaviour is based on my son at that age XD He bounced on everything!

The dead winter leaves crunched under Piccolo Junior’s feet as he walked through the graveyard. It wasn’t a graveyard, as such… no religious body in their right mind would allow Piccolo’s family to be buried on their grounds. This was just a plot of land, one that Piccolo had come to frequent during his life. He came here less and less, though… now that it actually meant something to him. Now that there was something of importance buried here. Somehow… it was too painful a place to visit. Junior understood the irony. How infuriated would King Piccolo be, to know that Piccolo Junior never visited his grave? He would be even more infuriated to know that Junior didn’t keep away out of anger or hatred. Would he call Junior weak for feeling this way? For feeling… something sentimental? Junior was certain of it; King Piccolo had never had time for sentiment, or anything like it. … Still. Whatever. Junior had been the black sheep of the family for far too long; he was used to it. It would feel strange to change now.

He continued walking, leaves and branches crumbling and crunching underneath his feet. His body lightly dusted with snow, snowflakes falling off his cape that blew softly in the cold wind. He could have picked a better day to do this. He would have liked to come in summer, but… he didn’t want it to be so long before they met. Katas could handle the cold. He had demon’s blood. 

Junior stopped at a gathering of graves. Four headstones arranged in a circle, and one in the middle… King Piccolo and his children. The minions gathered loyally around their master. He would like that, wouldn’t he? Junior had put some thought into where to place King Piccolo’s body. He’d thought about making him part of the circle, but… that didn’t seem good enough. King Piccolo would hate to be on the same level as those dim-witted freaks. It would be much better for him to stand out, in the centre. Standing out was what he was famous for. 

Piccolo Junior squatted down in front of the middle headstone, and glanced briefly at the others.  
“Well.” He said. “… Nobody’s left.” He paused, unsure of what else to say. He had a million things to say, but… he didn’t see the point in speaking them. His brothers wouldn’t care. Even if they could listen, they would choose not to. His brothers never had liked him. “… I continued your bloodline, Father.” Junior said, turning his head to King Piccolo’s headstone. “… Look.” 

He opened up the front of his gi, and out poked a little green creature. It looked around, curiously sniffing at the air. Then it leaned forward and toppled away from its father’s body, landing with a soft _pat_ on the ground. Piccolo Junior watched him, his child. Dressed in a full body babygro with the Daimao symbol on its back… Piccolo had no idea about fashion, and especially not when it came to baby clothes… but this seemed good enough. It suited him. The child crawled around the grave, curiously sniffing around. He picked up a few broken leaves, and inquisitively shoved them into his mouth before pulling a face and dragging them out again. He grabbed hold of the grave, using it to pull himself onto his feet. He couldn’t stand on his own, but he liked walking along things. He was keen to grow up. If only Piccolo Junior could make him believe that there was no rush. 

Junior smiled a little as he watched his child keenly touching the headstone, running his hands along the indents of the writing and licking at the moss that grew upon it. He hissed and pouted at the vile taste, and smacked his hand against the headstone to feel its texture, frowning slightly when the hardness of the impact hurt his hand. “I named him Katas.” Junior spoke. “I didn’t keep up with your instruments theme… sorry.” He smirked slightly. “But I didn’t think you’d be surprised. It’d be weird of me to follow in your footsteps for once, right?” He sniggered slightly, and moved his eyes to the grave. “… I’ll tell him about you, though. I’ll tell him everything. I’m not ashamed of you, I just don’t agree with you… … I hope he won’t either.” 

He watched Katas for a moment more, chuckling slightly when the child started bouncing up and down against the headstone.  
“Ahhhhhhh!” Katas yelled, his eyes lighting up in excitement as he bounced up and down, putting his full weight against the headstone. “ **Ahhhhhh**!”  
“Stop it.” Junior ordered. “That’s your grandfather’s grave. Show some respect.”  
“Ahhh…” Katas’s screams softened, and he looked up at his father with a sheepish expression upon his face, fully aware that he was being told off even if he didn’t know why.  
“… Come on.” Piccolo Junior scooped the child up in his arms, and held him tightly as Katas struggled to break free, irritated that he was being restrained. Piccolo Junior looked at the headstone, and smiled. “Goodbye, Father.”

He rose to his feet and tucked Katas away, safely back into his gi. Then he flew off into the cold winter’s sky.


End file.
